Through the Storm
by spacecats
Summary: AU. Set in another galaxy where stars are dying. To complicate matters, women are dying out from a genetic disease that scientists are desperately trying to cure. Isabelle French finds herself involved with Col Nicholas Gold and PVT Killian Jones; both would risk it all before letting anything happen to her. Characters based on their OUAT selves, but not exactly the same.
1. Prologue

Prologue

"Shit."

A woman in a crisp white lab coat looked up at her companion in surprise. "What's wrong?"

Her partner waved his hand at his computer screen. "Not one of these tests came out negative. Not one." He sighed and leaned back on his chair. Worry set up camp in his features.

They had been at it for the last sixteen hours without much more than a bathroom break and ten minutes to cram down some food. Click after click, sample after sample that had been catalogued into the system, became one long chain of disappointments. The hope that at least _some_ of this batch would come out in their favor kept them going, but now the realization that their hopes were nothing more than that was dawning.

"I think it's getting worse," said the woman in a low voice as she came to stand behind his chair. She bent lower to view his screen.

The man snorted. "So glad we spent all that time and money and man power on those vaccines."

"There was no way to know if they would work," she scolded, straightening up. "If they _had_ worked… well, that would have been one less problem for all of us."

He didn't reply. She turned back to her own computer screen and shut it off. Grabbing some tablets from her desk and her coat, she came back to him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on. There's a drink with your name on it next door," she coaxed.

"OK. Just a minute," he relented. Looking back at his screen, he clicked on a few files to download them onto his own tablets. Shaking his head, he almost whispered, "JM…NH…KR…IF…Just one sad story after another." He shrugged as the computer screen died. Linking his arm with his lab partner, he managed to chuckle. "Maybe it's time for a new line of work?"

"Well, I hear the circus is in town. You could apply," she teased.

"I'd make a great bearded lady," he replied.

Laughing, they made their way out of the lab and locked the door behind them.

His tablets, fresh with newly-inputted files, seemed innocuous enough. But their contents would change the lives of many young women who did not yet know that their lives were changed.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

_How did it come to this?_ The thought played over and over in her head. Tense shoulders, white knuckles, pain behind the eyes… eyes that couldn't focus on one thing for more than a few seconds.

Maybe she couldn't see straight, but she could _feel_: the frigid, rectangular slab of steel at which she sat, the unyielding plastic material of her chair, the panic that formed a tight knot in the pit of her stomach. She had been in the holding room of the transport ship for over an hour, watching video after video of the Relocation Planets and hearing other people's names being called, other people being relocated now that their homeland had been abandoned… now that its star was in its death throes.

One among many, the young woman watched as a collection of images flashed on each metallic table top. The planet Atlas. A palm tree shading hibiscus plants, swaying gently in the hot breeze. Toothy, bleached smiles plastered on young faces as they surfed in a roaring ocean. Moms and Dads on their way to work in well-kept industrial parks. They wore their government-issued uniforms and brand-new sports vehicles like badges of honor; they were privileged to be chosen for this place. The voice that accompanied the vid said as much as it described this planet as a "lush oasis in the heart of the galaxy, a place where jobs were plentiful and the weather was always fine."

But her name hadn't been called for this planet. Or had it? Had she missed it? The flat, disembodied voice didn't seem to notice the fog of tension that settled over the room, so heavy it threatened to crush the inhabitants. Would they go to a _good_ planet? Would they ever see their friends, family, and neighbors again? Would they be forced into the work camps, trying to mold a massive, unforgiving hunk of rock into a place that could actually be called a home? Would they be the lucky ones? Who would be the lucky ones? Why did _they_ deserve to be chosen? Why not me?

Frantically, her enormous blue eyes searched the screen for the scrolling names. A buzz of hushed whispers assaulted her ears. _Did you hear my name? Wait, did you see my name? I thought I heard my name! My name was called! Oh, no, my parents were called but what about me?_ Sobs, cheers, Chosen Ones vanishing from their tables while their friends and family collected tear-filled tissues in their pockets.

_No,_ she realized through the haze. _My name has_ not_ been called._ She would have to wait.

Silken rhombus with a tail of ribbon framed by an azure sky. Baby chicks breaking through their shells and meeting the sun for the first time. Twinkling city lights giving the towering edifices a jewel-encrusted look while citizens scurry to their nightly diversions. Endless purple and blue mountains. Absolutely, heartbreakingly endless.

Tekia, Trene, Rouxe, Shaza. Any of these would have done. But her name hadn't been called.

The room began to empty. She and the last dozens of unfortunates sat in a resigned silence. They all knew which images would grace the tables next. These were billed as the "promising" planets, the ones with "unmatched potential" that guaranteed the lucky newbies a chance to stake their claim in the creation of a prosperous and fulfilling future for generations to come. All it would take is a little blood, sweat, and tears…

Ashith. Uste. Ertiseck. _Oh, this gets worse and worse_, she moaned internally, listening to choked sobs as many more of her compatriots were whisked away to their little slice of potential. Only two planets remained: Traiji and Astout. These were places that you didn't bring up among decent company. A giggle pushed up through the writhing agitation in her gut and burst out her lips. _I'm done_, was her thought.

She could just make out some commotion in the periphery. Turning her head toward the hubbub, she saw a tall man dressed in the tan utilitarian suit of a government or military official thrusting a note at the moderator of today's festivities. The moderator, who had the air of not being particularly impressed with the cacophony of emotion that careened off the walls of the room, studied the note through his monocle. He raised his eyebrows at the other man and shrugged. Her eyes snapped into focus. Had he looked in her direction? She thought she saw an almost imperceptible shift in his gaze.

But the official turned heel, and the moderator took his place, and all she had to do was wait with the other miserable few.

She waited. And waited. And they were assigned to Traiji, so she tried to block out the shrieks by covering her ears with her hands and resting her forehead against the cool leaden surface. And then it was time for her name to be paired up with where she would live out the rest of whatever time she had left. In Astout.

But her name never came. When all was finally quiet, she dared to lift her head and open her wary eyes. The room was nearly empty, save for a handful of bewildered young women. She watched as the moderator made his way over to her, seemingly in slow motion.

"Isabelle French?"

Her name sounded strange, so gruff from his lips. She looked up into icy blue eyes.

"Yes? Am I going to Astout?" she croaked.

"No," he replied. "You're coming with me."


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

_Six months ago…_

"Nicholas Gold, how many times have you been in here in the last week?"

Cramming himself into the small countrified booth, the man quipped, "I can't get enough of your lukewarm, watered-down coffee, Ms. Lucas." A mischievous smile crossed the seasoned soldier's face. He wasn't an imposing figure in stature, but something in his eyes could pin people motionless and then it was his brain that would pick them apart piece by piece until there was nothing left. He'd left the fighting behind him long ago when a wound to his knee took him off the front lines, but his job advising the military operations in this system still placed him in a position of power.

Meg Lucas, who had reached the chronological age of 68 but batted her mascara-laden eyelashes at men half her age or less, sidled over to the Colonel. "To think a fine, upstanding, high-ranking army man such as yourself would grace our little town with his presence—"

"Now, now," Gold rebuffed in his accented tenor, "no need to insult a hungry patron. Can you get me a burger or do I have to go somewhere else?"

Meg scrunched up her nose and leaned down to stare into the Colonel's sardonic brown eyes. She mused at how unfair it was that women of a certain age just added padding, sagging skin and wrinkles to their menu along with spending countless credits on camouflaging it all while men could become more desirable. Take the Colonel: he was probably 50 by now and yet had all his sandy brown hair, a striking jawline, and lean, muscular frame. _Just not fair_, she thought.

Nicholas shifted uncomfortably under the waitress's scrutiny. "Um, a burger?" he repeated lamely.

Straightening up, Meg put a hand on her hip. "You're not fooling anyone here, Colonel. Something is up. There's been military up and down these streets at all hours for the last few weeks."

"There's a base here," Gold said, looking her straight in the eye.

"Oh, don't give me that. How long do you think I've been here?"

Nicholas opened his mouth to retort, but Meg swiftly cut him off. "Wait, don't answer that." She leaned down again. "You've been visiting this planet, this town, for years and have gotten to know a lot of us. If there's something comin', don't you think we've a right to know?"

The Colonel looked into his coffee cup. "Meg." He looked back up into the incorrigible woman's eyes and gave an impish smile. "It's classified."

Meg stared at him for a second and let out harsh puff of breath through her nose. "Fine. Burger coming up." She stomped away, passing the front door of the café as it jangled open.

Gold's eyes locked on the petite figure crossing the threshold into the dining room. As per usual, he couldn't stop the speed of his heartbeat from increasing ever so slightly. _This is ridiculous,_ he chastised himself and suddenly became very interested in the hummingbird-themed fabric of the booth.

The young woman removed her coral-colored coat and replaced it with the standard green apron of Meg's Country Kitchen. She set herself up behind the counter, picking up some leftover tips and wiping down the surface. Out of the corner of his eye, the Colonel watched her refilling a salt shaker, her long chestnut hair that curled at its ends curtaining her face. As he watched her, his initial attraction bloomed into worry. He might have played it off lightly to Meg, but there _was_ a reason for the increased military presence in the town, and although nothing had come to fruition yet, there was a chance that all of their lives would be changing soon.

Meg's face popped up in the pass-through between the kitchen and dining room. She shoved a burger at the younger waitress. "Belle. Take this to… _him_," she ordered, her voice tinged with annoyance.

Surprised, Isabelle grabbed the plate and whipped around. Her eyes fell upon her old friend, the Colonel, sitting at his usual booth. One side of her mouth lifted, and she sashayed from behind the counter to his table and set the plate in front of him.

"What did you do?" she questioned, amused.

Gold cleared his throat and looked up into her green eyes. "Nothing, Ma'am."

Isabelle gave him a skeptical look. "Well, whatever it was, Meg is going to be in a mood all afternoon, and when you go back to the base, guess who gets to deal with it?"

The Colonel chuckled. "You're a brave woman. You'll manage."

With a sigh, Isabelle sat down opposite the man. "You've been here almost every afternoon for the last few weeks," she began.

"Oh, no, not you, too," Gold groaned. He picked up his burger and bit it resolutely.

"Well, it's unusual. In all the years I've known you, you've only made two-or-three-day visits at a time. Never more than that. Certainly never weeks on end."

He leaned across the table and stared her down squarely in the eye. "Thanks for noticing, dearie," he replied suggestively.

Her cheeks warming, Isabelle sat back against the booth. "Fine. Don't tell me."

Softening, he placed the burger back down. "Look, Belle, I know you're worried. I hear the rumors, too. If there was something to tell you, you would be the first to know."

"Would I?" She twirled a copper-tinted curl around a finger. "I went to the doctor today. They did…the test." She frowned.

Gold frowned, too. "When do you know the results?"

"They said in a few days."

The two friends sat silently for a few moments. She looked up into his eyes again.

"Promise me," she said softly, "that you will do everything in your power to help these people…especially if I'm gone."

He bit into his burger again and chewed it savagely. "I'll start with teaching them how to make a decent burger."

"Nicholas." Isabelle gave him a pitying look. "You knew my sister. My mother. I know you don't want to talk about what happened to them, but the reality is that there's a good chance I'll share the same fate. And I have to know that you will think kindly of this place…even if I'm not here any longer."

Swallowing hard, the Colonel lazed back in his seat. "The _reality_, dearie, is that I need another cup of joe." He gave her his winningest grin.

"You're infuriating, Colonel," she said, shaking her head at him. Then she smiled and shrugged. "We won't talk about it then. I know you well enough to know that you'll do the right thing." She rose and made her way to the coffee machine.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

A few hours later, Isabelle said goodnight to Meg and stepped out onto the cobblestone street in the cool night air. Winter was fast approaching and even her long coat couldn't seem to warm her.

_I'm cold from the night air… or from something else, _she thought glumly. The test she had taken, the one that could end in a death sentence, had plagued her since leaving the cold, sterile hospital. Images flooded her mind: her sister covered in the sores that marked the fatal disease, gasping for air during her final moments, and her mother, limp and lifeless with an empty bottle of pills in her hand, lying on her marital bed. When Isabelle had found her mother there and cradled her in her arms for the last time, she'd seen it: the telltale sore on the older woman's hand. Since her father had passed when she was a baby, she was now what was left of the French clan. Of course, she still had people to care about in her life: Meg, her best friend Jefferson, Nicholas…The name brought her up short. He had been in his usual wry mood that afternoon, but she saw something in his eyes that she didn't like. It tightened her chest.

"Isabelle!" bellowed a deep voice.

Pulled from her reverie, Isabelle turned around. Under the pale glow of a street lamp stood Private Killian Jones. She couldn't help but notice how the light caught in his thick black hair and how his ice blue eyes pinned her to where she stood. She also couldn't help but notice how her heart seemed to kick into overdrive whenever he came near.

Killian was an off-worlder stationed here on Sonos when he enlisted in the military. He was training to be one of the Elite Guard, the soldiers who would give their lives to protect the remaining females in this system. After his training was over, he would be assigned one of these genetic lottery winners, and he would go wherever she went for the rest of her days. Isabelle thought he would make an excellent Guard, and a small flicker of hope had lodged itself inside her: hope that she wouldn't have the disease and could claim him.

The Private closed the gap between them with a few easy strides and put his hands on her arms. "You're freezing," he said, caressing her up and down to create some friction. He slid out of his jacket and placed it over her shoulders. He winked. "Fortunately, that's just the thing I'd love to take advantage of."

Isabelle rolled her eyes, but softly replied, "Thank you."

"It's nothing. I was just on my way to your flat." He looked at her in earnest. "I wanted to be with you after what you…did today."

They turned and started walking down the street again toward Isabelle's home. It was just like Killian to know she needed company tonight. He had been a good friend to her ever since they met five years ago. She had been working at the career fair where she taught, and he had been there right next to her at the enlistment booth, speaking with some of her students. During downtime, they chatted easily like old friends. Since then, he made it a point to join her and their friend Jefferson, also a teacher at her school, for drinks every Friday night when he was home. Elite Guardians weren't supposed to "fraternize" with the locals, and Killian took his oaths seriously, but every once in a while, Isabelle could swear he was looking at her in a more-than-friendly way. And his occupation didn't stop him from being a shameless flirt.

Finally, the pair reached Isabelle's doorstep. They went inside, and Killian dropped onto the old worn couch.

"Do you want a drink?" Isabelle asked him.

"Sure. Whatever you're having," was the reply.

Isabelle opened up her wine cooler and took out a bottle of red. She poured two glasses and handed him one. Sitting on the couch next to Killian, she pulled her legs under her and took a sip of her wine. They sat in silence, enjoying each other's company for a moment.

Finally, Isabelle set her glass down on the coffee table. "I saw Colonel Gold at Meg's," she began.

Killian snorted. "Oh? And what did that old crocodile have to say for himself?"

Isabelle pushed him on the arm. "Stop that," she reprimanded. "He didn't have much to say, that was the problem."

Private Jones stretched out his long legs and smiled. "Lucky for you, love. He always seems to have plenty to say when he sees me."

"You antagonize him. Really, Killian, you ought to be careful. He outranks you."

Grinning, Killian reached over to tuck a curl behind Isabelle's ear. "I've nothing to fear from him, Belle. For starters, I'm the best trainee the EGs have got." He leaned closer. "And… I'm _your_ friend." He waggled his eyebrows.

Isabelle frowned and took their glasses away. She always felt uncomfortable when Killian insinuated that there was something untoward about the Colonel's relationship with her. As she rinsed her wine glass out in the sink, she felt a hand on the small of her back. Killian rested his chin against the top of her head. "Sorry," he murmured. "I shouldn't make jokes when you've had the day you've had."

He caressed her back slowly, deeply, his hand working out the knots in her spine. Isabelle's eyes slid shut, the corners of her mouth softly turning up. It felt so good to be close to him, with his energy and strength cloaked around her. Too soon, though, he backed away with a sheepish look on his face.

"Sorry," he chided himself. "Can't let myself sample the wares."

Giggling, she smacked him with the dish towel. Ducking away from her, he grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch. "It's late. I need to head back."

Isabelle leaned against the door frame. "OK. I appreciate you walking me home."

"Anytime, love," he replied and slipped back into the night.


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

_A few days later…_

Colonel Gold paced the floor of the Central Intelligence Center. He was waiting for General Stone to brief him on the situation on the planet. Gold winced as his bad leg hit the floor. It usually acted up when he was under a lot of stress, and by the feel of it, he hadn't been this worried in weeks. This meeting was one that he'd been dreading, one where Sonos' best scientist would present their findings and advice. He'd seen similar situations go down on other planets: the scientists would paint a grave picture of the planet's future, the government officials would see it as an opportunity to "abandon ship," so to speak, and millions of people would be uprooted from their homes, friends, and, in many cases, families, and thrust out into space.

Usually, Gold took a pretty objective view of these goings-on; after all, nothing really affected him. Since joining the military nearly thirty years ago, he didn't have a home planet anymore, and besides, he had no family left from which to be separated. His ex-wife had left him long ago to make a more profitable match, and his son hadn't spoken to him in years.

So why, at the prospect of Sonos being abandoned, did he feel a sense of dread that shook him to his very core? Surely, this was no different from what he'd experienced so many times before.

Heavy footsteps shook Gold from his reverie. General Stone marched into the room and nodded coolly at him. Several other high-ranking officers joined them and they sat around the large conference table in the center of the room. Nicholas also noticed the assistant to the Prime Minister of this system as she waltzed into the room and took her place among them. Nicholas knew her. Her name was Regina, and she seemed to pop up to give the "good" news wherever she went. He had the occasion to see her do her dirty work with a cold, dismissive manner.

The intercom buzzed. "General Stone?" came a nasally voice.

The General cleared his throat. "Yes, Amelia, we're ready in the CIC."

"I'll put them through." Suddenly, the holographic images of five men and women in government-issued lab coats popped up in the middle of the table.

"Let's cut to the chase," grunted General Stone.

A woman with short blond hair and glasses nodded. With a sweep of her hand, a set of charts, graphs, maps, and images covered the table. Nicholas pushed his chair in closer and leaned over to scan the information.

"As you can see," the lead scientist began, "we don't have good news." She highlighted two of the charts. "To spare you the technical terminology, the data shows that our days on this planet are numbered. Our star is dying." She hesitated. "What's strange is the speed with which this occurred. We've checked, double-checked, triple-checked all our data, and none of us can understand it. A year ago, the star was stable with barely observable decreases in hydrogen fuel. Today, I can tell you that we might have another nine to twelve months before humans will no longer be able to inhabit this planet."

General Stone looked over at the Prime Minister's representative. "I take it you're prepared to help with the relocation process," he said to her.

Before she could respond, Nicholas snorted. "I'm sure she is." He stood up from the table. "Look, none of this makes any sense. Sonos should be safe for another few hundred years. Aren't any of you even curious about why and how this happened?"

"Does it matter? It's happening. Our job is to get people to safety. Pure and simple," was Stone's reply.

"We are prepared to help," the PM's assistant cut in crisply. She opened her brief case and slid a holographic document across the table. "We have a list of viable planets. We are ready to being the sorting process."

Nicholas surged back to the table and swiped the document over to his seat before General Stone had a chance to see it. He read down the list. "Are you bloody serious?" he bit out. "You have planets on here not fit for rats to inhabit."

The woman smiled with forced patience. "I disagree. Most of the planets on that list are already established. Yes, there are a few that are rough around the edges-"

"Rough around the edges?!" spat Nicholas. "They're nothing more than hunks of rock with nothing to offer. These people have lives, businesses, homes. You're going to send them where they'll have nothing."

"It is unfortunate," Regina replied calmly with feigned sympathy, "however, unavoidable. They will have to see it as an opportunity and know that they aren't the first to have to start over somewhere else."

"It's not just _starting over_," snapped Nicholas, leaning across the table into Regina's face. "How many of them will die in the pursuit of building this new _paradise_, as you would like to bill it?"

General Stone gripped Nicholas' arm. "Colonel Gold, watch your tone and have a seat." Nicholas sat in a huff, noticing Regina's smirk. "Facts are facts. Nothing we can do to change it." He looked back at the lead scientist. "How long do we have?"

With a grim look, she replied, "To be safe? Six months? We don't want to cut it too close."

Stone nodded and locked eyes with Regina. "OK. Tell the PM we are ready to vacate."

Regina nodded. "Our office can start immediately." She snapped her briefcase shut and left the room, already communicating with her base. The clicking of her heels sent sharp pains behind Nicholas' eyes.

"Dismissed," barked General Stone. The holograms disappeared and the others filed out. Only Nicholas remained, staring at the empty table, his teeth grinding.

General Stone looked at him. "I can almost see steam pouring out your ears," he said. "We've done this a dozen times in your service, Gold. Why is this one different?"

_Belle_. That was the one word that snapped into his mind. But he said, "Nothing to concern yourself with, General." He stood. "Nothing is different."

He stalked out of the room, his leg feeling on fire. _I have to find her and tell her_.

* * *

**Thanks for reading my first fanfic! I know that people generally like a lot of romance right up front, but this one is going to build as I'm trying to also make something of the story line as well. There will be steamy scenes later on if you stick with it.**


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

It had been a very long day in the classroom, and Isabelle's feet were hurting from standing so long. Longing for the solitude of her flat, she slung her oversized bag, brimming with papers to correct, over her shoulder and headed out of the sleek grey building she called her home-away-from-home. Part of her also knew there was a good chance her test results would be in her personal e-mail inbox, and she wanted to read those in the privacy of her own home.

As she took a few steps down the sidewalk near the back parking lot, she saw her friend Jefferson hop onto his moped and gave him a little wave and smile. He scooted over to her and sat idling.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were actually leaving work at a decent hour," he teased. He'd often found Isabelle in the copy room or staff lounge well after most teachers left for the day. They commiserated over the fate of being literature and writing teachers. They usually had the most to correct and sat together lamenting over their students' improper use of Standard English conventions and clichéd expressions.

Isabelle smiled at her friend. "Well, stop the presses then, because that's exactly what I'm doing."

"You could knock me over with a feather," Jefferson replied dryly. "Enjoy the afternoon. Or try to. Say…" He paused. "It's been a few days since your test. I take it you haven't heard yet."

Looking away, Isabelle shrugged. "You've discovered my ulterior motive: I'm probably getting them today. I didn't want to be _here_ when I looked at them."

Jefferson looked grim and raked a hand through his already wild brown hair. "Do you want me to come home with you?"

"Thanks, but no," she said with a soft smile. "I appreciate it. You're a good friend, Jeff."

"OK…Well, let me know if you need anything."

"I will. I'll let you know… how it goes."

The two friends parted, and Isabelle walked the mile to her apartment with only her thoughts for company.

* * *

Nicholas cursed his leg on a day like this for not letting him get around as quickly as he wanted. He cursed his colleagues, because there was always one more person with one more problem chasing after him as he attempted to get the hell out of dodge. He cursed himself for forgetting that today was Belle's day off from the diner, and he cursed the time he wasted going there when he could have been knocking on the door of her home.

It was early evening when he finally made it to her apartment. He stopped a moment outside and couldn't help but see her in the large picture window that graced the front of her place. It was just dark enough outside to see her silhouette. She was hunched over her tablet at a table, one hand holding it, one hand flat out on the table in front of her. He couldn't pick up her features, but her outline was enough to send warmth shooting through him to all the bitterly cold places his anger and frustration had previously dwelled. It took him back to the first time they met a few years ago, another time when he'd found her alone, sitting with a tablet in hand and a far-away look in her eyes.

It had been a beautiful summer day down at the enormous park on the west side of town. Lush green vegetation covered the ten acre property, which had once belonged to a rich man who'd died and left his estate to the public. The place was idyllic in every way: a large pond with several graceful swans gliding atop it. Bright and colorful flowers cascaded over every nook and cranny. Enormous old trees shaded pedestrians from the sun. The mansion itself, which was now a museum, stood like a sentinel.

He, of course, had been in a foul mood. He'd been reassigned to this planet, and to say he hadn't wanted to be there would have been an understatement. Though he felt no particular tie to the place he'd been before, the whole process of packing his belongings, making the long journey in the tin can they called a "luxury" ship, and starting from square one in a new place with new problems wasn't exactly what put Nicholas Gold in a good mood.

But then he saw her. It was her chestnut hair gleaming in the sun that first drew his attention. He slowed his gait and pretended to be fascinated by a pair of ducks that waddled and quacked along the bank of the pond. She seemed to be engrossed in whatever was on that tablet, so he didn't see the harm in looking a little more. What he saw caused his chest to clench, a feeling he hadn't had in years. Her big blue eyes scanned the screen, her face was calm in repose…It was like looking at an angel, real and in the flesh, and he didn't even believe in them. He got a sudden, incomprehensible urge to go sit next to her on the park bench. The notion shocked him. Nicholas Gold was known to find idle conversation with females to be a waste of time, unless he was getting something out of it, which he surely wouldn't dream of with this woman. She looked young enough to be his daughter, for goodness sake. Why, then, did his feet suddenly carry him to the bench?

The woman looked up at him, a little confused, but she scanned over his uniform and smiled. "Good afternoon," she greeted, setting her tablet on her thigh. "Can I help you find your way somewhere?"

Startled, Nicholas almost thought she was talking to someone else. After a moment's hesitation, the corner of his mouth turned up. "I'm new in town," he said. "Just trying to get the lay of the land."

The woman nodded. "This is the most beautiful place," she began. "Across the way, you can see the town library and town hall. Are you stationed at the base on the east side?"

Pleased that the beautiful girl seemed agreeable to a conversation, Nicholas took the opportunity to sit. "Yes, it's my new home base," he answered. "Just arrived last week, though they send me out on long missions most of the time." He held out his hand. "Colonel Nicholas Gold."

Of all the times he faced near death in battle, of all the times he grilled the enemy with barely civilized methods, of the one time he was a Prisoner of War and endured torture without so much as breaking a sweat, holding his hand out to this perfect creature did more to shake his nerves. He couldn't fathom why he was so nervous that she wouldn't take it.

Of course, she did, and warmly said, "Isabelle French. It's nice to meet you, Nicholas."

"Nick," he quickly replied. _Now, where did _that_ come from? _he wondered. _No one calls me Nick!_

She seemed to like that, as her nose crinkled in approval. "Most people call me Belle."

He smiled, something pretty foreign to him, unless it was with sarcasm. He glanced down at the tablet resting against her leg. "Anything good?" he asked.

Belle looked down at the device. "Oh," she said sadly, "it's just the _Gauntlet_. Have you read it?"

Nicholas nodded. "It's a classic." He frowned. "You don't sound so happy about it, though. Got to a sad part?"

With a wistful smile, Belle shook her head. "It was my mother's favorite book," she said.

"Was?"

"She passed away." She took a deep breath. "It was only a couple of weeks ago. I think I've read this ten times since then. Can't seem to put it down."

Horrified, Nicholas watched as Belle's eyes misted over. _Of course, _he thought. _The one time I talk to a woman, I manage to drive her to tears. _

Belle wiped an eye with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean to cry on you."

Nicholas resisted touching her hand. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I didn't mean to hit a sore spot. "

She smiled. "No worries. It's a little fresh, you know? My father passed away when I was young, and my sister a few years ago. I'm the only one left. I feel…well, it's hard to put into words."

"You feel small," Nicholas replied. "Fragile. Like the world, even the universe, could steam roll over you or swallow you up."

Surprise filled her eyes. "Yes. That's exactly it."

With a wry smile, Nicholas explained, "That's how I felt when I found myself alone. My wife left, then my son."

Interested, Belle leaned closer. "So, what did you do?"

"Nothing good. Threw myself into my work." He laughed. "Ignored the upheaval in my life. Probably shut some people out along the way." He leaned in conspiratorially. "Although there _was_ that one torrid affair with a hellcat who was horrible for me…"

Belle laughed heartily and wiped another tear away. "OK, so maybe that's not the best way for me to deal with my problems."

Her laughter was the best thing he'd ever heard in his life. "No, you should probably do the opposite," he replied. "Keep your friends about you, honor the memory of the deceased in your heart, and live as best you can in the moment."

She let his words sink deep inside her. Finally, she tilted her head. "You're very wise, Colonel Gold," she said. "Thank you for the advice."

He nodded, equally shocked and pleased that he could affect her in any way. From that day forward, he would stop in at the diner whenever he was back in town, chatting with Belle about books and what was new in her life. As their friendship blossomed, so did his admiration and feelings for her. He remembered once helping her stack plates on a shelf that she was just too short to reach, their arms brushing and electricity shooting straight through him. He remembered when she had twisted her ankle on an icy sidewalk, so he gave her a ride to work the next morning. He remembered a holiday party last year, when they both took a couple of shots of whiskey and found themselves under the mistletoe. He'd been horrified, but she'd giggled and pressed her warm lips against his cold cheek. The feeling of that kiss had tingled for at least an hour; the memory of it was sure to last much longer. He also remembered the feeling of blazing, red-hot hatred last spring when he noticed that upstart Private Jones starting to buzz around her. It sickened him every time he popped into the diner and saw Jones already sitting at the counter making goo-goo eyes at her and tossing his lame flirtations her way. But, most of all, he remembered just how her eyes always lit up when he returned from a mission, how she knew that he really preferred a good cup of tea to coffee any day, and how no matter what was going on in her life or how busy she was at the moment, she was always ready to drop everything and talk to him like he was the only person in the room.

But, there was no use dwelling in the past. He had grave news to deliver, and he was thankful that he could be of use to her. Without further hesitation, he broke away from the vision of her in the window and made his way to the front door.


End file.
